


calendar

by Pokeshipping_Flash



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Awkward Romance, F/M, Flash Fic, Gen, Hormones, Male-Female Friendship, One Shot, Photo Shoots, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23956468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokeshipping_Flash/pseuds/Pokeshipping_Flash
Summary: It turns out someone appreciates Misty's risque photoshoot more than she expected. Hints of Pokeshipping.
Relationships: Kasumi | Misty/Satoshi | Ash Ketchum
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	calendar

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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” _This_ is impossible and _you three_ are the worst!” a certain redhead shrieked, clutching both arms so tightly over the front of her torso that she could hardly breath, one tightening its grip on the towel she’d managed to throw on, and the fingernails of her other digging into her own shoulder.

The cameraman gulped at her ferocious ire and pitch black gaze, knowing better than to cross the teenage girl right then and even going so far as to take a step or two backwards.

“Oh, c’mon, lil’ sis!” Daisy began, “How can you possibly be angry at your first big break that wasn’t specifically handed to you by your talented–”

“–flawlessly beautiful–” Violet crooned further.

“–gracious older sisters?” all three of her older siblings concluded in screeching unison.

“You, like, wear a bathing suit all the time at the gym or on the beach. Why is having your photo taken for a theme calendar any different?” Lilly beseeched her in hushed tones, hoping to quell her fire with some familiarity and logic.

“Th - that’s obviously not the same thing! I’m training my Pokemon or battling near a pool, or when I’m on the beach I’m probably sunbathing when I wear one then! _This_ is embarrassing! You told me the calendar was honoring female gym trainers around the world!” Misty hissed back, still holding her arms protectively over her front. “Why do I have to be in some stupid bedazzled bikini for that, posing like that without a single Pokeball? I should be releasing Gyarados o - or Corsola or one of my other Pokemon, maybe have them use an attack!” she finished cryptically, eyeing a few of the assistants who were bustling around trying to keep busy as though she’d already found her Pokemon’s targets.

“You know, Misty,” Daisy tried again, “for someone who, like, claims to be the most beautiful water-type trainer in the world, you sure aren’t acting like it.”

The redhead flinched at having some of her own words thrown back at her.

“Beauty is totally meant to be seen, to be shared! And nobody said you couldn’t have a Pokeball or two next to you! You should just, like, try to remain open-minded about the project! The rule of show business is you have to stand out if you want your exposure to last longer than fifteen minutes, you know?”

“Show business…” the redhead muttered to herself in response, grunting, groaning, eyes closed to ward away the oncoming headache. She could feel her face on the verge of setting fire as she very slowly began to convince herself to remove her claws from where they sat raking into her own skin. “This wasn’t supposed to _be_ about show business…”

When she’d first been told that a Kalosian company had wanted to feature the Sensational Sisters in their calendar project, she’d been touched that her sisters brought it up to her at all, even if they’d joked at the time that the only reason they were doing so was because she’d become so well-known at the gym by that time that there was no way to hide her somewhere.

And it wasn’t as if she had a problem with her body or with showing it off either… The problem had more to do with being mislead about the whole thing, about being manipulated by her siblings (which she should have seen coming), and about how the very _purpose_ of this rag’s existence was going to be for teenage boys and creepy middle-aged losers to gawk at bodies like hers.

But another part of her battled against these thoughts in fiery declination.

It was still nice to do something as an equal with her sisters. The calendar was _still_ going to be adorned with the subtitle: _Strongest and hottest female gym leaders from around the world!_ And, as previously pointed out, if she could ignore the gross groups of boys and men who she suspected would be the general audience to this debacle then… maybe she could find herself enjoying the attention.

“There you go…” Violet murmured appreciatively, going out of her way to assist with tugging the towel from Misty’s vice-like grip and throwing it unceremoniously onto the reclining deck chair behind her.

“This should be over quick at least, right? I mean, they only need one or two shots of us, don’t they?” the redhead whined as Daisy grabbed her shoulders from behind and coaxed her into a proper position among their group, warily eyeing the cameraman now as he readied his device to capture their pose.

“Um, well, actually…”

Misty didn’t have the opportunity to hear where her sister was going with this before a bright flash and shutter echoed around the rafters of the gym arena, somewhat disorienting her. Unwilling to give the redhead anymore opportunity to gripe and condemn the entire scenario and those involved, her sisters kept her busy with new postures, assisted by the Kalosian company’s experienced staff.

Almost two hours and what seemed like two thousand shots later, the redhead was sitting in the aforementioned reclining deck chair with the towel under her back, one leg kicking softly over her other thigh, eyes closed just enough to make her eyelashes flutter, giving the impression she was resting poolside without a care. She could feel the slight draft of the air conditioning against her exposed and pickling skin, inhaling deeply to brace herself better against it.

“I don’t understand the point of these photos! I mean, we only have the one page dedicated to us, right?” she couldn’t help complaining, though she was a decent enough contributor to know to keep her pose in tact at least.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, sis. You’re doing great!”

“But aren’t they going to use the group shot of us for our page? Really, what’s the point of them taking these single profiles too?”

“Please stop talking, Miss Waterflower. You’ll make my job much easier!”

Misty’s brow twitched in response to this pleading command and she stilled her loftily bobbing leg. Still, she’d rather just get this over with, she thought, and so she slowly exhaled her last breath, counting down the seconds, until her breeching temper had waned back.

“I wanna know what’s going on.”

“Switch pose please! Miss Waterflower, try stretching back against the chair, lift your arms and arch as lean as you can, intertwine your fingers above your head and give us just a hint of a smile! We want you to look relaxed but untouchable! We’re going for welcoming, intimate, yet unattainable!”

“Fine,” the redhead hissed through gritted teeth, and did as suggested. “But I swear someone better tell me something!”

The camera began clicking madly. She could make out the flashes of light from behind her eyelids. Nobody was engaging with her anymore.

“Hello…?” she tried again, “Can I get any sort of answer?”

But nothing. The camera was still going, bright lights flashing and she could assume reflecting off the pool water somewhat unpleasantly. Though perhaps things were finally coming to an end, because it seemed like there were farther and fewer shots being taken.

“A - are we done? Please say we’re done,” she groaned hopefully from where she sat, tempted to leap up but the actress in her unwilling to break the character she’d been told to utilize for her shoot.

“Uuh… anybody?” she asked awkwardly a few seconds later, for the sounds of the camera and look of the lights had completely died away to stark silence.

“Misty, what the heck are ya doin’ here?”

What little color she had there drained readily from her face and her jaw locked up in humiliation. She gingerly peaked open one eye just to confirm the horrendous true identity behind her newly wandered in guest.

He stood before her, towering over her from where she sat in all fairness, still very tan, somewhat lankier than she remembered, but sporting a very familiar cheeky grin on his not-quite-the-same-amount-of-boyish-as-she-remembered face. And, though she wasn’t quite ready to confront it for what it may have meant, a splash of appreciative pink stretched across the bridge of his nose and over the somewhat chiseled round of both cheeks as he looked her over.

“Ash Ketchum,” she was compelled to greet him with bated breath.


End file.
